Forgiveness
by ancientGonzoWisdom
Summary: Sometimes, forgiving someone isn't all that simple, and yet, it really is.


Silent Hill's all Konami's, okay?

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Heather was never much for churches, let alone confessionals. Her father was a rather religiously absent fellow—she remembered him once mentioning that he used to be a rather devout Lutheran, but after some thinking over, he just kind of decided there was no point.

After all the memories and reminders of her past, she knew the exact reason why he gave up religion now, and why she was never really exposed to it.

So, really, the only reason she decided to go into the confessional booth of that vile church was because of the wailing, crying woman behind a door that wouldn't budge. Perhaps, she supposed, she could find out what happened.

Heather kept her silence as the woman started to speak, and she seemed to be holding back the urge to go into bouts of sobbing once more.

"Dear God, please forgive me," the Alessa incarnate heard her say; she honestly was about to leave then and there, but all she did was roll her eyes and stay put as the voice on the other side continued. "I know I'll be put to death for the sins I've committed: and I'll go to my death gladly and with a peaceful heart."

_Whoo, boy,_ Heather thought irritably and cynically, _this lady must've done something pretty bad. _Had she not come across some rather sinful characters already (that _bitch_, that _murderer_ Claudia, and that yellow-toothed, selfish Father Vincent, too), Heather would've already felt sympathy to the extent that it could only be measured in dozens of buckets.

But, for now, all she did was stand there and listen apathetically.

"But, please, grant me just a small piece of your everlasting mercy. Let me see my child once within your Golden Gates." If Heather hadn't known any better, she would've supposed the woman killed her own kid. "Send me not to Hell, but to Purgatory: allow me atone for my sins there." Rather dramatically and miserably, the woman added, "I'll stand within the flames of Redemption, no matter how they burn me!"

Heather frowned. _You're already in someplace worse than Hell and more torturous than Purgatory, don't you know that? Am I the only person who realizes that this God is the cult equivalent of Satan or something?_

"Forgive my wicked act of revenge, and deliver the soul of my poor murdered daughter!" Now it sounded like the woman was retching as she choked back sobs and calmed down a little. "Please also care for the soul of the girl whose life I have taken."

The reluctantly-appointed Holy One lowered her eyes to the floor. _So she didn't kill her daughter… _She started to feel bad for even feeling cynical about the whole predicament.

But then, it wasn't that easy not to be; all this trauma and all the gore and monsters surrounding her just numbed her senses to the point that she was pretty unfazed.

"God, I'm a child, _trembling_ in fear as I stare at death! Soothe my tortured soul with your infinite mercy…please, forgive me." The mourning voice on the other side pleaded and sobbed once more. Her confession may have ended, but the climax and crescendo of her wailing had just begun.

At first, Heather couldn't help but note that this woman said that she'd accept death with a peaceful heart, but now she's raving that she's frightened. It was pretty understandable, though, looking at things from one view_. When shit like this happens, you can't help but have your train of thought go everywhere, _Heather thought.

_So, what now? Do I forgive her for succeeding in having revenge, or do I keep my mouth shut so that she'll never have peace of mind ever again?_

It didn't take too long for her to mull things over and do what she thought was the most righteous thing she could do:

"I forgive you."

What followed made her feel a little better: the woman's sobs were out of elation now, and utterances of gratitude were barely coherent amongst the crying.

Pretty sure she did the right thing, the bottle blond left the booth, not even bothering to try the door on the other side of it. Feeling more like a philanthropist and less like the cold-blooded killer she was dangerously close to becoming, Heather skipped down the hall, looking for the next door and the next step to get closer to that final showdown in which she would butcher Claudia Wolf. (Just because she felt better didn't mean she still didn't hate that lunatic, after all.)

Then again, perhaps she herself needed some peace of mind? Perhaps this was a test of how much humanity lingered in her slowly corroding soul after extremely recent (and extremely traumatizing) murder of her father?

_Yeah_, she smiled. _That was what it was_.


End file.
